While We Can
by pignapoke
Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?
1. Chapter 1

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

A/N: My other fics have been abandoned. The only one I plan on working on is 'Let it Burn' and this. I think every writer is allowed to go on hiatus for a bit, eh? I'm sorry, but I'm stumped.

Also, I plan on making these chapters fuller and more in-depth. I'm sick of having a million 1000 word chapters. It's lame, and it's not fair to the readers. So, if they take a day or two longer to get done, I hope you understand.

While We Can

A/N: Oh, before we get into the story. I just want to apologize for any possible medical term errors. I've surfed the web for information, and picked up some stuff from E.R., but it may not all be correct. Thanks for bearing with me!

Dean was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, AC/DC screaming in the background. As usual, Dean was hungry, and Sam offered-okay, Dean forced him-to pick up some food. They had been eager to get away from the chaos in the town that they had recently left, because the townspeople weren't too keen on their reasoning behind burning down their church. This only left Dean cranky, tired, and hungry. The latter of the three making his stomach grumble obnoxiously.

Sam had been really on-edge lately, and obviously, Dean noticed. It had started very recently, when they had finished a hunt about a month ago. Dean had just assumed it was related to his visions, because more often than not, he got those freaky migraines which made him irritable.

It didn't bother Dean too much, because, even if he didn't show it, he completely understood why Sam would be so strung out. On top of that, Sam was worrying himself sick over the deal Dean had made with the Crossroads Demon to save Sam's life. He was so intent on finding a way to help Dean that he wasn't doing much to help himself. Dean didn't want Sam to kill himself regardless by constantly working all the time.

As the minutes ticked by, Dean was becoming profusely agitated. All he wanted was some food, and now he had to wait because Princess Sammy had to take his good ol' time.

"Hey bitch, you can walk a little faster, you know!" Dean called out the window to his brother. Sam was stumbling noticeably to the car with a styrofoam container gripped in his left hand. For a moment, Dean shrugged it off, eager to get back on the road and the hell outta dodge. But, Sam was acting differently, and it stirred up a bit of concern.

"Are you drunk?" Dean pressed. Sam swayed a bit on his feet, and furrowed his brow, shaking his head as if it were a really stupid question.

"Line." Sam mumbled, pulling the door closed once he got into the passenger seat.

"Jerk." He muttered under his breath. His breathing was shallower than normal, and his face was pale. His features seemed stretched over bone-like they were out of place and molded.

"You gonna be sick?" Dean asked. He glanced over at his brother's hands, which were actually trembling against his thighs. It sent a little chill down Dean's spine.

"No, man, I'm okay." Sam clenched his hands together and pressed one against his chest, clearing his throat so Dean wouldn't think it was anything major. Sam could feel the muscles beneath his chest constricting tightly, and it was harder to catch the air he needed. Maybe he was just experiencing a different symptom associated with his visions. He only hoped it wouldn't get as bad as his migraines.

"_Sam._" Dean repeated. Sam turned to look at his brother, where concern was noticeable behind his eyes. He didn't even know Dean had said his name. In fact, he wasn't even sure how much time had passed since he had gotten into the Impala.

"What?" Sam panted, swallowing thickly. He tried lifting his other arm to his chest, but it felt detached, like it simply wasn't there. He looked down at it, and could see it moving, he just couldn't feel it. It was like an out-of-body experience, and it stunned him momentarily.

"What's wrong with you, man?" Dean spat out, watching Sam's movements like a hawk. He looked panicky, and there was fear behind his eyes.

"I-I don't know." Sam shook his head and winced as white-hot pains started to pulsate through his chest. He saw darkness dance before his eyes and then the light came back suddenly. It was as if someone were pulling a curtain up and down over his eyes. His heart started to slow and oxygen became limited.

"Can't...breathe..." Sam wheezed suddenly, but no air was coming.

Dean needed to react quickly. He wanted to have been helping Sam already, but it was as if he was watching a movie, everything splaying out in slow motion. This seemed nothing too out of the ordinary, and to be honest, the Winchesters weren't too great with dealing with _normal_ occurrences. Dean's thoughts snapped back to Sam. His brother wasn't breathing and he was in pain. Dean tugged the seatbelt off and ran around to Sam's side. He brought his arms under his brother's and gently lowered him to the ground, propping Sam's head against his thigh.

"Alright, Sammy. Hang in there." Dean pulled out his cell phone and called 9-1-1. He wouldn't have called for an ambulance under normal circumstances, seeing as how he was a wanted man, but the entire atmosphere felt darker. He wasn't going to risk Sam's life. He threaded his fingers through his brother's hair and talked to him the entire time, eager to keep him conscious until help arrived.

"Remember that time I met that chick at the bar?" Dean tried to smile, thinking about what Sam would say.

"_That narrows it down to, what, 200?" And he wouldn't grin yet, because Dean would always have a killer comeback and Sam would only laugh at Dean's jokes. That's why Dean joked all the time. Even as a kid, he'd loved watching Sam get a kick out of him. _

"And she didn't give me her number?" He paused, reminiscing. "That was the only chick that turned me down, man. Only chick."

Sam's eyes opened slightly, and he took in a shaky breath. "Liar."

**...Supernatural...**

"I'm sorry, Sir, but you're going to have to follow us. There's no room." The paramedic said in a rushed tone. Dean stepped towards the ambulance and squeezed himself inside.

"Then I'll make my fatass fit. I'm going with my brother." Dean ignored the woman's open mouth and laid his hand over his brother's. He was still conscious, but there was an oxygen mask over his mouth and Dean was glad to see it steam up every few seconds.

It seemed like an eternity until they arrived at the hospital. It was big, and looked to be fairly new. They pulled Sam out of the ambulance and wheeled him into the E.R. as the nurses and paramedics shouted doctor mumbo jumbo. Dean didn't understand a word of it. He felt like he wasn't supposed to be here. Everything was so rushed, scrambled, chaotic. It was amazing to him that people actually fell into this process as routine. Nothing made sense to him. The only thing he cared about was that Sam was alright.

Everything suddenly became clear to Dean. He rushed past hospital rooms and saw older men and women, close to their parting time, a young woman ready to give birth, and another emergency case in the room next to Sam's. There was a young woman, and two young boys with her. One of the young boys was on the stretcher. His face was bloodied and he didn't seem to be breathing. The other little boy, close to his mother, reminded Dean of himself in so many ways. But, there was no parent for him. It was Dean and Sam. That was it. They only had each other. One of the paramedics brushed past Dean roughly and he followed eagerly behind them, tearing his gaze from the young boy.

"Is he okay?" Dean shouted above the noise. _Let him be okay._

"BP's 147 over 95." _That better not be bad._

"1-2-3 lift."

"Let's do a chest x-ray." _That doesn't sound good. _

"He's tachy."

Again, Dean understood none of this. All he caught was the bit about the chest x-ray. There couldn't be anything that wrong with Sam that they had to do an x-ray, right?

"Sir, you're going to have to wait outside." Dean opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off. "I understand that he's your brother, but if you really want to help, you'll go to the waiting room." She paused and sent him a sympathetic, but stern look. "Down the hall to your left."

And just like that, Dean stomped out of the ER, speechless.

**...Supernatural...**

The little boy's name was Carter, and his baby brother's name was Jack. Jack is 4 years old and he fell down a small flight of steps as he tried to chase their dog, Scout. Carter was a small boy with inquisitive eyes and a lopsided grin that was only present when Dean cracked jokes to him.

Carter rested his hands on his knees and continually looked down the hallway, waiting for his mother to show up with news. Good news.

A doctor came down the hall just then, but turned to Dean instead, apprehension dawned on his features.

"How's Sam?" Dean pressed, his eyes alight with nervous anticipation.

The doctor took a deep breath and folded his arms against his chest.

"Your brother had a stroke."

Dean's head was spinning, thoughts circling around his brain like a tornado. This couldn't be happening. Not now.

"A _stroke_?" Dean gawked, his heart thrumming psychotically against his chest. "He's 24. Doesn't that happen to old folks?"

The doctor pressed his lips into a tight smile, ready to arm Dean with the knowledge he needed.

"In most cases, yes. Your brother has what we call a congenital valve defect. Most cases like these surface before the child is born, but in Sam's case, it was presented later in life."

Dean absorbed the information impatiently, eager to see how he could actually _help_ his brother.

"So what are you going to do?" _Fix Sammy, or so help me God, I'll kill you._

"Well, we're going to have him undergo a surgery so that we can surgically repair his aortic valve. The surgery is going to take about 4 hours, and then we'll move him to recovery. His chances are good. He's lucky to have gotten here so soon. You saved his life. "

Dean shut his eyes and let out a sigh, running his hands over his tired features.

"Can I see him?"

The doctor shook his head, and patted Dean's shoulder. "We're moving him to the O.R. as we speak. You should get some rest. Your brother's going to need you to be strong for him."

And it was what Dean Winchester did best. In fact, it was what he lived for. He lived for Sammy.

The doctor trotted down the hallway and Carter turned back to face him.

"You're an older brother, too?" The question made Dean sound like a hero, made him feel proud.

"Yup. He's a pain in my rear end sometimes, but I've gotta take care of him." Dean grinned.

"Yeah. Jack's always getting into trouble. Mom says he's just curious." Carter paused and hung his head. "I wish he wasn't so curious all the time."

Dean's grin fell, because he could see Sam in Jack. The curious little boy, eager to get the answers he wanted. Always so full of questions, but so innocent. Vulnerable.

Dean thought back to a few years ago, when Sam had left for Stanford. It was what Sam had wanted, and he could have gotten himself into trouble, hell, he could have gotten himself killed by the things they hunted, but in the end, Sam knew that Dean would always have his back. The same was true, even now. Sam was torn over the deal, but Dean was going to be there. Dean was always going to be there, whether he had one year to live, or eternity.

"Sometimes, even if you don't want them to, people do what _they_ want. But, you're still gonna be Jack's older brother." Dean paused and realized he was addressing not only Carter, but himself. "And if he scrapes his knees because he was going too fast on his new bike, you're the one who's gonna say, 'I've got you, little brother.'" _I've got you, Sammy._

Carter watched Dean with big eyes, knew it was true that he was going through the same thing Dean was. Carter was silent for a few moments, and when he pulled his eyes away from Dean, he sighed. "The doctor's right. You should get some sleep."

Dean rubbed a hand over his chin and then stood up, ruffling Carter's hair. "Your brother's gonna be fine, little man."

**...Supernatural...**

Dean walked away from Carter and turned down the hallway where Sam was going to have his surgery. He paused in front of the doors and clenched his jaw tightly. Sam was all he had left, and he'd be damned if he lost him again.

Trying to pry his eyes away from the room that would determine Sam's condition, he kept walking, out the doors and down the street, calling for a cab so he could get the Impala. He was honestly surprised that it hadn't been towed. When he got inside, he took in a shaky breath and covered his eyes with his hand. Had it really only been an hour or two since Sam was in the passenger seat with him? Dean picked up the styrofoam container that had still been in the car and threw it angrily out the window.

"Damnit, Sam." Dean shouted, pounding his fist against the steering wheel. He remembered practically destroying the Impala in anger over his father's death. If Sam was taken away from him, he'd never look at anything with wheels again.

He had about 3 hours to kill until he'd be returning to the hospital. He wanted to sleep, knew he had to, but also knew that if he even shut his eyes, he'd replay that afternoon's events over and over again until it hurt. He had to pass time another way. Maybe he'd do some research, check up on old family friends.

3 hours.

Tick.

Tock.

_I'll be there when you wake up, Sammy._

**...To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I loved the reviews so much that I'm posting early!

A/N2: If you love me, you'll talk to me on AIM. I seriously love talking about Supernatural. So, if you want my screen name, it's on the profile. )

While We Can

It wasn't even remotely surprising to Dean that he couldn't sleep. He had been laying in bed, tossing and turning for twenty minutes, and when it came to be a half hour, he leapt out of bed, threw his jacket on, and returned to the hospital.

Each time he closed his eyes, he heard Sam screaming, and it pried his eyes open until he could barely blink.

In the Impala, he felt the same sickening feeling he had when he was driving back to the motel. All he could think about was Sam sitting in the passenger seat, trying to breathe but not getting any oxygen. Dean jammed the key into the ignition a little harder than he should have and started driving a little too fast.

The road was seemingly stretched out more than he had hoped. It seemed like too much of a long drive, and he wondered how long it had taken them to get to the hospital. He wondered how much time had passed before Sam could actually breathe.

He shuddered, and focused his eyes back on the road.

When he made it to the hospital, it was quiet. It was an eerie sort of quiet, like when you feel there's no way anyone else can live on this planet but you. He tried to sort things out so that he could focus, but his thoughts were getting mixed up in his brain. He found Carter standing in the hallway by Jack's door. He didn't want to talk to him, didn't think he could, but it was a little kid, and he didn't have to act strong in front of him.

He strolled over to him, realizing he had passed Sam's room in the process.

"Hey Carter." Dean greeted him, moistening his lips and then chomping down on the bottom one. "How's Jack?"

Carter pressed his hands against the cool frame of the door, watching his mother fuss over Jack, whispering things that Carter couldn't hear through the metal and steel.

"He's not getting any better. Doctor doesn't think he's gonna live through he week." He paused, and watched his mother for a second longer. "His lung collapsed."

Dean watched a single tear glide over the apple of Carter's cheek and he turned to sit down on the bench down the hallway. Dean followed him.

"Your brother's gonna be okay, Carter." Dean patted his shoulder gently, and gave him a reassuring smile. This little kid, no more than eleven years old, could possibly be witnessing his baby brother's death, and all Dean could tell him was that he'd be okay.

"You don't know that." Carter mumbled, swiping at the tear and letting out an exhausted sigh from crying too much in too short a time period. "I thought you were going home to sleep."

Dean merely huffed, and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, well..."

"How's your brother?" Carter asked after a while, unsure if he was overstepping his boundaries.

"He's still in surgery." Dean didn't bother looking at Carter, just stared down the hallway like it held the meaning of life somewhere behind the paint and bricks and woodwork. "He'll be okay, though. Always is."

**...Supernatural...**

Dean jolted awake about two hours later when he heard someone calling to him. He had no idea he had fallen asleep. He was greatful for the rest, but the chairs here were _uncomfortable_. Carter was no longer beside him, probably went off to see his brother. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and looked up to see the doctor standing in front of him. _Sedwick_. He didn't catch his name before.

"Dean?" Dr. Sedwick asked, eyeing him up with both concern and sympathy. "Sam just got out of surgery. Would you like to see him?"

All traces of exhaustion quickly left Dean's body as he stood up. "'Course." He got his game face on and followed Dr. Sedwick down the hallway.

Dean felt like an outsider again. He felt like this simply couldn't be happening to him. To Sam. And it shouldn't have been happening. Dean had 8 months left with his brother. And, he sure as Hell didn't want Sam to go before him.

Dr. Sedwick led Dean to Sam's hospital door. "He's resting, but stable." He turned to Dean and let out a small sigh. With a forced reassuring smile, he patted Dean's shoulder, which only made Dean feel like he was 12 years old again.

Dr. Sedwick walked himself back to wherever the Hell he came from, and Dean watched Sam for a moment before he actually went it. It made him feel like there was a dead weight in his stomach, seeing his brother like that. He was so still, and so pale that it made him think back to when Sam actually _died_. Dean held back the wave of nausea that was trying to make it's way through.

He opened the door and clenched his teeth together to keep from breaking down right then and there. He took in a deep breath and sat down on a stool that he had pulled over from the other side of the room. Out of instinct, he pulled Sam's limp hand into his and rubbed his fingers over the cool flesh.

"Come on Sammy, I'm gonna be completely gray by the time I'm 30." Dean joked, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Dean rested his head in one hand, while the other still clung onto his brother's. Even with a simple touch, he felt safer. He could _feel_ that Sam was alive.

Sam was certainly alive, but he still looked so damned horrible. There were deep circles under his eyes that, at first glance, looked like bruises. His entire body looked gaunt and worn out, and his lips were pursed as if he was in pain, despite the fact that he was more drugged out than he had ever been.

It occurred to Dean at that point that the deep grimace, almost carved into his features, was something different entirely. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were squeezed so tight Dean thought he might explode.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, leaning forward to press the call button. Sam's eyes didn't open, but his fist clenched over Dean's hand as he let out a deep groan that sounded completely _un-Sam_.

The monitors surrounding his brother's bed started to wail and screech in unison, a sound that scared Dean half to death. Sam still didn't have his eyes open, and the groaning had become louder, his grasp on Dean's hand tighter.

"Come on, little brother." Dean cooed, brushing back the unruly bangs on his forehead. The nurse came in and called for Dr. Sedwick, who was looking a tad bent out of shape.

"What happened?" He asked, rushing forward to give Sam some sort of sedative.

Dean stood up, prying Sam's hand away from his own and trying to mask his horror.

"I-I don't know." Dean covered his mouth with his hand as he stared down at his now-calm brother.

"I'm going to have to ask you step out until we get him completely stable again." Dr. Sedwick sounded apprehensive, but stern.

Dean stared down at Sam for a moment longer, wishing he could be the one to calm him. He was so used to being his brother's doctor, and watching other people care for him just didn't sit right.

"Yeah...yeah, okay."

**...Supernatural...**

Dean returned to see his brother two hours later. He was completely calm, and Dr. Sedwick had even told Dean that Sam might wake up. He was partially thrilled at this thought, because with the Hell he had gone through, he would have given anything to see his brother's eyes. The other part of him couldn't bare with seeing him suffer so much. He wanted Sam to sleep through everything until he wasn't hurting anymore.

Again, Dean took Sam's hand in his. The machines had quieted by now, but the steady beeping caused a strange sensation to rise up in Dean. These machines were what Sam needed to live right now. He just wished they would have been a little quieter so he could actually think about something other than his brother dying.

For a few minutes, all Dean did was watch Sam rest. He carried with him a silent hurt. Dean couldn't quite catch what it was, but it made him nervous all the same. His body seemed too frail for a 24 year old.

Sam's eyes started to flutter open, his eyelashes like butterfly wings. Dean smiled.

"De...an?" Sam cried out, his hand gripping Dean's a little tighter.

"I'm here." Dean assured him, watching his brother's sluggish movements. Sam was silent for a moment, and then let a soft, but almost unhuman cry.

"Jesus." He was visibly fighting back the tears. Dean had to swallow twice to fight back the bile from seeing his brother in so much goddamned pain.

Dean again pressed the call button, making sure that his brother would get whatever pain medication he needed, and fast. He simply couldn't bear to see Sam like this.

"Take it easy." Dean rubbed over Sam's forearm gently. The nurse came in and saw that Sam was awake, but waited for Dean to say something.

"He's in a lot of pain." Dean muttered without taking his eyes off of Sam. The nurse upped his dose, adjusted his pillows and left.

As Sam started to get more comfortable, he also became more talkative, which was fine by Dean, as long as he wasn't pushing himself too hard by doing so.

"Why does it feel like my chest was ripped open?" Sam grunted, continuing to hold onto his brother's hand. The grip was desperate now, needy.

"Maybe 'cause it was." Dean suggested jokingly, hoping it wouldn't offend Sam. He didn't take offense to it. He just turned his head to stare at his brother.

"What is it?" Dean pressed, his stomach still churning nervously.

Sam was hesitant, and didn't answer until he was sure the pain of breathing was gone. "I had a vision, Dean."

Dean shut his eyes and sighed shakily. "Sam. You haven't had a vision in a long time. It was probably just a dream." His mind wandered back to when Sam was noticeably in pain, groaning and suffering. Could it have been then?

"Dean. I know the difference." Sam shook his head slightly, wincing a little. "No, this was a vision. I just don't know why I'm getting them now."

Dean merely sighed, running his free hand through his hair and over his face. He didn't want his brother to be having visions. After Sam was discharged, he didn't want to have to worry about Sam having more visions, nightmares, migraines. The kid had been put through too much. Dean didn't think he could bare it anymore.

"Well," Dean cleared his throat, "what did you see?"

**...To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

Author's Note: Sorry. Go ahead, hate me for the late update. Ahhh! It's kinda hard getting this done, now. I've done a lot of RPing and it's so much fun that I stop with the fics. I hope you understand if updates are a little more spaced out from now on. Thanks for the reviews, and I hope that you're all enjoying this story so far. I appreciate the support!

While We Can

Sam shut his eyes and for a moment Dean thought he had fallen asleep. Reluctantly, his eyes opened again and he turned his head towards his brother.

"I saw you." Sam spoke quietly, like speaking was too much a burden.

"You're not the first who's had dreams about me." Dean winked and beamed at Sam, the smile only reaching his lips.

Sam gave Dean one of those looks where Dean knew he shouldn't be joking around, but all the same felt the need to lighten the mood.

"Sorry." Dean muttered, absentmindedly rubbing at the back of his neck.

"You were, uh, at the Gates of Hell." Sam said without looking at his brother. As he spoke, it was like he was telling a story inside of his mind without realizing there was an audience.

_It was peaceful, for some strange reason. Everything was quiet. It was dark outside, and the clouds were black with rain and thunder. Dean was standing in a sort of gateway. There was light coming from it, and Sam thought it may have looked heavenly somehow, if it hadn't been for the hellhounds at his brother's feet, baiting him. Dean looked down at them and got this pained look on his face, as if going to Hell wasn't enough of a punishment, and the hounds were a constant reminder. At that exact moment, Sam wanted to dive in through the gate to save Dean. He loved his brother more than anything and he simply couldn't stand the way he looked, the eerie silence, the waiting hounds._

"You weren't fighting with anyone. You just kind of...looked back at me and smiled." Sam hung his head and swallowed.

_Dean hung in the balance between heaven and hell and sighed, his lips upturning in a sad smile. Sam shook his head, reached for his brother. His mouth formed words that Sam couldn't make out. Dean kept the smile, soft tears pooling up in his eyes, and stepped into the gateway. _

"Well that's not the way I would have expected myself to go out." Dean cocked his eyebrows.

"You're not going out at all Dean." Sam's jaw tensed and there was an immense determination behind his eyes.

"Sam." Dean lifted his head so that he was staring directly at Sam. It was the kind of look he gave him when he demanded Sam's full attention. "You need to stop this. The researching, sneaky phone calls to everyone in Dad's journal, it has to stop." Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw and tried not to focus on why Sam was here. All that stress the poor kid was carrying with him, all that fear, anxiety. It was too much, and he couldn't carry it with him anymore. "You've gotta let it go."

Sam's chest tightened and he felt the familiar sinking sensation fill up the hole in his stomach. "You're a selfish bastard, Dean." Tears pooled up and Sam had to bite down on his lip to keep them from falling. With the emotional exhaustion from the hospital trip, and the vision Sam had about Dean, he was falling apart, and quickly.

Dean lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose to keep himself calm. "Sammy, we can talk about this later. My first priority is getting you fixed up." _Always._

Sam just rested his head on the pillow and sighed, shutting his eyes out so he wouldn't see his brother watching over him.

**...Supernatural...**

"Hey, Carter!" Dean smiled as he saw the little tyke at a vending machine, getting a soda.

"Hey, Dean." He forced a smile, opening the soda and taking a sip. He looks tired, and much older than he is, despite the fact that he's probably only 11 years old at the most.

"What's up?" Dean asked, sitting down on the bench, shoulder to shoulder with Carter.

He looks sort of crestfallen, like a little lost angel on your shoulder.

"Eh. Jack's not getting any better."

Dean nodded, pursed his lips, and turned to the other direction, watching the people move about without really seeing them. "What'd the doc say?"

Carter shrugged, "Nothing I could understand. I just know they don't even have a release date for him."

Dean shook his head. Why do the worst things have to happen to the best people? "That bad, huh?" He scratched at his head absentmindedly.

"Yeah.."

"I'm sorry, Carter." Dean apologized. He gave him that soft smile and clasped his hands together, hanging his head in the process.

"'Not your fault.." He mumbled. "'My job to take care of him." He said.

Dean turned to look up at the little boy and was silent for a few moments. This little boy was exactly like Dean, put in the same situation. He had to take care of his little brother Jack, just like Dean had to take care of Sammy. It was the only job he had in this world.

"I know how you feel, Carter." Dean said, gazing off down the hallway. "Like it's your _job_ to protect them." He turned back to Carter, who nodded wearily.

"Well," Dean continued. "Now you've gotta let them do _their_ job."

"What's their job?" Carter asked, his eyes laced with mixed emotions.

"They've gotta find their way back."

**...Supernatural...**

Sam was in and out of a restless sleep when Dean came in again. Truth be told, the way he had acted before was nagging at him. Sam was never one to hold a grudge, but he also couldn't do much for his guilty conscience.

He shouldn't have told Dean he was selfish. To an extent, he meant it, but there was no point in arguing with him when he didn't have much time left. Sam needed to get back on top of his game so he could get back to research. He needed to find the solution.

"Hey Princess, how ya feeling?" Dean smirked, perking an eyebrow. He sat down on the uncomfortable hospital chair and leaned over towards Sam's bed. He looked tired, as if he hadn't been getting enough sleep. It wouldn't come as a surprise to Dean, because Sam usually didn't get much shut-eye.

"Good." Sam lied. He paused, wondering whether or not he should 'go there'. "Actually, I was wondering if you could bring me my laptop." He cleared his throat and cocked his head to the other side.

"Sam." Dean said in an almost annoyed tone, raising his eyebrows. "You're not doing research."

Sam gawked at his brother, even though he knew that Dean was being completely reasonable. "Why, Dean? I feel fine."

"Because I'm the oldest, and I said so." Dean smirked for Sam's sake. He didn't return the easy smile, just huffed.

Dr. Sedwick slipped into the room, with a smile on his face. "Glad you're awake, Sam. How are you feeling?"

Sam hated being taken care of, hated feeling weak and vulnerable, and Dean that Sam wanted more than anything to get out of this hospital as fast as he humanly could, whether he was fully healed or not.

"Good." Sam declared cheerily, and Dean could see right through it.

Dr. Sedwick moved to Sam, pressing buttons and changing IV bags and fixing things on the monitor. Dean had no idea what was going on, and didn't pay much attention to what the doc was doing, just so long as it helped his brother.

"Well, Sam, you did well in surgery, everything seems to be okay." He nodded. Dean nodded back at him, his eyes on Sam.

"The tubes in your airway and bladder will be removed after a few days, once we make sure your body is strong enough to handle it."

Dean still kept his gaze on Sam as his little brother spoke. "So, uh, once the tubes are out, I can go?"

Dean shook his head. The kid was always trying to push himself. Dr. Sedwick's smile fell slightly. "Well, Sam, you are going to need lifelong care. Checkups are going to be mandatory to make sure you don't run into any more problems with your heart."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Lifelong?" He turned his head to Dean, who had his lips pursed and was silent.

Dean's mind went into overdrive. Once he was gone, how would Sam take care of himself? His brother was persistent, and there was no way that Sam would agree to going back to live a normal life. He'd go and find a way to bring his brother back, and by then, they would have come full circle. Back to hunting. If Sam was on a hunt, if he faced something dangerous, he wouldn't be able to take care of his heart. For once since the Deal had been made, Dean wanted to get out of it, to save his brother, to keep him from danger. 'Couldn't show it though. He had to be strong for Sammy.

Dr. Sedwick stayed with them for a few more minutes, describing how Sam's recovery would be, and gave it a few months until he'd be fully healed and ready to go. But, to Sam, that was far too long. The doctor left and the two brothers were left alone.

"Sammy, we're gonna have to stop hunting, you know that, right?" Dean fingered the pendant wrapped around his neck absentmindedly.

"Dean, no. We're gonna hunt." After Mary, Jess, and John had died, the brothers wanted more than anything to kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, and they were successful, but now they had a different obstacle to overcome, one that Sam in particular was not going to give up on. His brother was not going to die, and they certainly weren't going to completely take themselves out of the Supernatural world where Sam wouldn't have much of a chance to stop his brother's fate.

"Sam. Listen to me. Your heart is what's important to me, not the deal, not demons, nothing." Dean's voice was rough and harsh, a tone that forced the reasoning into Sam's head.

Sam didn't feel like arguing, he was too tired to bicker over this. Either way, he was going to find a way to save his brother. His mind started to go into an almost catatonic state. His nerves were frayed, he was stressed out, and the entire ordeal with Dean was putting more strain on his heart, which he wasn't taking too kindly too. He just wanted to get out of here, just wanted to go back to a hotel where they could research and find a way to save Dean. His heart meant nothing right now. If Sam had to live with this defect, then so be it, but he certainly wasn't going to go through it without Dean.

He didn't know when it happened, because he started to lose track of time, but he started to tremble. It was a tremble caused by neither cold nor fear, and it overtook his body like it was nothing. His limbs started to feel tense and hard, and started to jerk. A violent twitch that had Dean screaming, and doctors worrying. He couldn't hear Dean's voice, just knew he was shouting, knew he was trying to pull Sam back from wherever he had gone.

Dean was hovering above him, watching his brother's taut muscles jerk and flail. A seizure? Doctors and nurses rushed past him, sending him out of the room. One muscular doctor wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him away. Dean pushed and fought, watching his brother seize, and the heart monitors wail.

And boy, were they screaming.

**...To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

Author's Note: So this chapter was done faster than I thought it would be. It would have been quite unfair to leave you all with that cliffhanger from Chapter 3. Reviews are love. Enjoy.

While We Can

Dean had been waiting twenty minutes too long. Doctors told him it was caused by the stress. That only caused Dean more guilt. He shouldn't have put that kind of weight on his brother, should've just let it go and assured him. He shouldn't have argued and tried to prove a point. His brother was all he had left, and after the heart surgery, he knew Sam needed him. He couldn't be up his ass constantly.

He spotted Carter walking towards him with a grin on his face. Good news was expected. He made himself comfortable next to Dean and watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Jack is okay now. But...I'm guessing Sam isn't." Carter mumbled. Dean didn't really know what to say to the kid. He wondered vaguely if he had looked as distressed as he was feeling.

"Yeah, he uh, he had a seizure." Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension in his muscles from sitting all day. He didn't care though, he'd sit in this uncomfortable chair for his entire life as long as Sam was okay.

Carter hung his head, at a loss for words. He was 11 years old. He didn't know about medical terms and seizures and heart attacks and surgery. He knew healthy, sick, dead, and alive. His eyes held the reassurance Dean needed, but his words made it felt real.

"You told me that Jack and Sam needed to find their way back." He started, sweeping a stray lock of blonde hair from his face. "So, let Sam find his way back."

Dean stared at Carter, taking in his innocence. He was like an adult in a child's body. The kid wasn't stupid, and the way Dean felt reassured almost instantly was remarkable to him.

"Yeah..." Dean nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

Carter gave him a sympathetic grin, pulled his knees and rested his head on top of them. "I think he's okay."

Dean's brow knitted together, thinking he was some sort of psychic like Sammy, but with a turn of his head, he realized it was just that he saw Dr. Sedwick strolling towards him. He had seen too much of the guy.

"How is he, doc?" Dean asked, peering over at Carter. He smiled warmly.

"Your brother is fine. He's awake and asking for you." He clicked his pen and hung it in the folds of his coat.

Dean's face fell. Even though they had argued, even though Dean was the cause of Sam's distress, even though he had made Sam have a seizure, he still wanted him to be there with him.

"Yeah?" Dean asked, rubbing his hand over his face.

Carter nudged his shoulder. "Go."

Dean glanced from Carter to the doctor and stood up, smiling at Carter. "Thanks, little man."

**...Supernatural...**

When Dean sat down, something felt wrong. Something felt out of place. Sam's hand was cold to the touch and his eyes were full of worry.

"What is it, Sammy? Aren't you happy to see me?" He smirked, cocking his eyebrow.

Sam shifted his position, a change that caused his chest to burn and throb. He met Dean's gaze, but turned away after a while, not sure of what to say.

Truth was, he was scared. He was afraid of having Dean spend the rest of his time in a hospital with Sam. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to research and save Dean from his Deal. He was afraid he'd die before he could figure out Dean's way out of Hell before it was too late. He wanted to get out of the hospital and help his brother, and he couldn't do that if he was stuck in a bed for another two months. This whole healing process needed to speed up.

"Sammy? You with me?" Dean asked, his voice laced with concern, his eyes full of worry. He went into big brother mode, leaning forward.

"'m fine." He mumbled. It was always Sam's answer when something was wrong. It didn't surprise Dean-in fact, he expected it-and he brushed a stray curl off of Sam's forhead before he continued.

"Sam. You've gotta open up to me. Doc seems to think the stress caused your little episode." Dean lowered his eyes. "Sorry about that, by the way."

Sam furrowed his brow and gaped at his brother. "Dean. Don't you dare blame yourself. I'm sick of you thinking everything is your fault." He huffed the way only Sam Winchester can and shook his head.

Dean watched his brother for any sign of distress, wondering why he was on-edge all of a sudden. "Yeah, okay."

Sam flexed his hands, stretching his fingers outward and curling them in again. The movement didn't go unnoticed under Dean's watchful eye.

"Are you in pain?" Dean asked, flat-out. He watched Sam's eyes dart to him, then back down to the blanket. He tucked the hand that wasn't in Dean's grasp into the folds of the hospital blanket. He wanted to play this tough act with Dean, but they both knew it couldn't-_wouldn't_-last.

"My arms and legs are sore. Doctor said the blood just needs to reach them. Once the circulation is back, it'll be fine." He noted, making sure Dean didn't worry.

"Uh huh. So, any hot nurses?" Dean tried to keep Sam's mind off of the pain-he knew his brother was hurting-and on a different subject. Even though Dean didn't act too worried, he took Sam's hand in his and rubbed his fingers, wrist, and forearm, hoping it would help with the circulation problem Sam had described.

For once, Sam actually played along with Dean and didn't scoff at him for thinking of women all the time. "Nah, they're all old."

Dean chuckled. "Maybe one of 'em will give you a sponge bath." He said enthusiastically. Sam made a grossed out face at him and wrinkled his nose.

Sam was quiet for a while, and had his eyes shut, and Dean though he had fallen asleep until he spoke again.

"So, who's that little boy you keep talking to?" He asked, turning his head to face his brother.

"Oh, his name's Carter." Dean paused, again thinking about how closely they were related. "His little brother's in the hospital, too."

Sam thought back to the little boy Lucas, and how Dean had bonded. He never really felt the need to settle down and have kids, but Sam just knew that Dean would make a fantastic father.

"Is he okay?" Sam questioned, keeping the conversation going.

"Lung collapsed, but Carter just told me he was getting better." Dean said. He was hopeful for Jack's recovery. Somewhere inside of him, he just knew. There was no way that whoever kept this world going was going to take Jack away from Carter. Neither one of them deserved this. Just like Sammy didn't deserve what he was going through.

"That's good. That he's getting better." Sam nodded. He admired his brother. Admired him for the way he took care of everyone else but himself, how selfless he was. It bothered him that he didn't look out for himself as much as he should, but there was never a time in his life when he didn't feel safe with his big brother.

"Dean, I don't want to be here much longer." Sam sighed. He wanted to go to Bobby's maybe, drive around and take in all that they can, and Sam could research out the ass and save Dean. He needed that lifestyle, not this one.

"Yeah, I know you don't. But you've gotta get your rest." Dean pointed out. He knew all too well how Sam hated hospitals.

"I want to rest somewhere else, then." Sam declared, sighing through his nose. Dean made a face that had Sam feeling like he didn't even have to talk anymore, because Dean could play the conversation out in his head. He knew his brother like the back of his hand.

Dean desperately wanted Sam to stay in the hospital for as long as he needed to, so that he could rest up, because he needed it. He couldn't even imagine how he would feel if he took Sam home and he still needed more time. He got up and walked out of the room and Sam knew that he was going to talk to the doctor. He smiled to himself.

**...Supernatural...**

"Alright." Dean came back in and sat down on the stool close to Sam's bed. "Doc says you can leave early if you're feeling up to it."

Sam grinned. He would definitely be feeling up to it.

"But."

Oh great, _conditions_.

"But what?" Sam wrinkled his nose.

"You have to promise that once we go home, you do physical therapy with me for a month." Dean wagged his eyebrows.

Sam groaned loudly. Physical therapy with Dean was horrible. Dean would push his buttons and push him physically and it was so hard because Dean took advantage of it, too. He'd make Sam do extra work, and though they both knew Sam could handle it, he didn't _want_ to handle it. Though he'd never say it, Sam was grateful for Dean's belief in him. It always got him through the tough spots.

"I'll tell the doc you'll stay." Dean said, getting up again.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Wait." He grumbled.

Dean grinned and chuckled, taking his seat again. "Works every time." He patted his chest. "I'm the best physical therapist there is and you know it."

Sam shook his head rapidly, but his lips soon upturned into a grin.

He'd tell Dean he wasn't, tell him he pushed him too hard and that he was annoying, but he was.

His brother was the best at taking care of him.

**Read: Look, no cliffy! Okay. So. Here's the deal. Do you want me to end it soon-maybe do a chapter or two about Sam's recovery? Or did you want more Sam whumpage? Thanks for reading! Reviews are love!**


	5. Chapter 5

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

Author's Note: Okay, so I actually really worked hard to get this chapter up as quickly as I could. It isn't too action packed because I wasn't sure if you wanted the normal kind of sam whumpage(i.e. he pushes himself too far, and ends up aggravating his injuries) or the supernatural kind of whumpage. For this chapter, I put in the normal kind, because I wasn't too sure how the supernatural would weave into the story. Despite that, I hope that this chapter is okay.

**Reviews are love.**

While We Can

"You ready, Sasquatch?" Dean patted Sam's knee and pocketed prescriptions for Sam's medication. Sam was more than eager to get out of this place. With the past two weeks having gone slow, the time had only come fast enough. Sam was on the edge of his bed, watching Dean pack up the things they had left in the hospital since Sam was checked in. He had been feeling a little better. Much to his dismay, it wasn't a normal injury where it affects mainly that area. His entire body had taken a beating, and there were times when he couldn't actually feel his limbs. The lack of full circulation was only common in these kinds of cases, but Sam wasn't too concerned. His chest was really bothering him. It had felt like his ribs had been stretched and broken-which, technically they had been-and then assembled in the wrong order. His breathing was okay for the most part, but he often had to stop and catch his breath.

Because of the long stay in the hospital, he had lost alot of weight, as well, and he was thin and gaunt, and paler than Dean had ever seen him. Well, it came close to the time Sam had actually died, but Dean tried to keep that memory tucked away.

"Do you even have to ask me that, Dean?" Sam grinned. He really was anxious to leave. It wasn't that he didn't like the place, but he had far more important things to take care of than himself. His brother was dying in 7 months, and being cooped up in the hospital certainly wasn't letting Sam get any research done.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rubbed a hand over his face and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder. He kept his body close to his little brother's as he stood, walking slowly towards the entrance of his hospital room. Dr. Sedwick was on his way in, and Sam had nearly suffered a collision with him. Thankfully, Dr. Sedwick caught himself before it could happen.

"Sam. I was just coming to see you." He smiled, folding his arms. "Are you sure you're up to leaving?" He asked, taking in Sam's appearance. He looked tired, young, fragile, and needy. His eyes turned to Dean, who had his eyes on his brother like he was the most delicate thing in the world. And Sam was just that, to Dean.

"Yeah, I feel fine." Sam assured him, smiling as much as he could. Truth was, he was feeling much better, but still felt weak on his feet. The sharp throbbing in his chest caused him to wince occasionally, but he was better at hiding it. No point in worrying Dean.

"Good." The doctor patted Sam on the shoulder kindly as they made their way out of the door. "Hopefully we won't see you around here anymore until it's check up time." He smirked.

Sam chuckled lightly. "Yeah."

Dean made a detour as Sam continued talking with Dr. Sedwick. There's no way he's leaving without saying goodbye to Carter. He found him standing in his brother Jack's room, next to his mother. She turned when she heard him entering the room, and the joyous look that Carter gets on his face gives it all away.

"Oh, you must be Dean." She cocked her head and smiled. "I've heard a lot about you." She pulled Carter in to her side and gave him a little hug.

"Yeah, nice to meet you." He smiled at the young mother-who was very attractive-and turned his attention back to Carter. "I was just leaving, kiddo."

Carter had known about Dean leaving. They had talked over the past two weeks about the recovery of each of their brothers and Carter knew that Sam was ready to go home again. Jack was recovering quickly and he was expected to be out of the hospital in a month.

Carter smiled and let Dean pull him into a hug. "I'm glad your brother's okay, Dean." He sounds so innocent and pure, it practically chills Dean.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm glad he is too." He grinned. "And Jack." And he is happy, because Carter shouldn't have had to deal with that heartache.

Dean turned to walk out, because he isn't good with goodbyes, even if it is a little eleven year old boy that he's known for about a month, but changed his mind.

"Hey, Carter." He called behind his shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you, kid. Take care of yourself."

Carter reflected on their bond. There is a part on some level where they are almost identical, in heart, in mind. It cannot be overlooked by either one of them. "Yeah...you too, Dean."

**...Supernatural...**

As they got outside, Dean considered asking Sam if he wanted a wheelchair. Surely it wasn't going to be easy to move about for the next few days for Sam, and he wasn't too keen on starting the physical therapy right away. But, Sam seemed to be okay, so he didn't ask.

Sam was in the car before Dean knew it and he was happy to see it. His little brother really seemed to be healing nicely. They drove back to the motel with a bit of brotherly banter here and there, and normalcy picked up pretty quickly shortly thereafter.

"How you holding up, Princess?" Dean asked, as he glanced over to his brother. He didn't seem as healthy as he had before, but still better than Dean had expected.

"Super." Sam forced a grin. He wasn't looking forward to the physical therapy with Dean, and knew it was going to be a long, rough road to recovery. Still, it was better than being in the hospital.

"Not lying to me, are you?" Dean smirked, as he parked the car in the motel parking lot. Sam shook his head no, said something about being 'peachy' and started opening the passenger door. Dean made his way to his brother's side, and grabbed his elbow to steady him, as he aided him to the motel. "Dean, I'm okay. Really." Sam said. He shot his brother a _you don't need to worry so much_ look, but didn't shrug Dean off of his arm. It steadied him, helped him find his center.

Dean walked his brother to the bedroom of the motel and sat him down on the bed. "Rest." He commanded. Sam gaped at him. "Dude, are you serious? I've been laying down for weeks!"

Dean shot him a look. "I don't care. You need rest."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, really, I feel fine."

Dean bit down on his lip. He supposed that he was expecting Sam to be unwell, to be in pain, to need him. But if that was what Sam needed, he was good at hiding it.

"Good. Up for some physical therapy?" Dean smirked, knowing all to well that Sam would turn him down and only _then_ decide he should be resting. But, Sam complied, which startled Dean somewhat.

"What?!" Dean spat out, as he scratched at the back of his head.

"Faster I get better, faster we can get a move on." Sam stated. He knew Dean would say something about Sam being too obsessed with the deal, too eager to move, and too careless to take care of himself first, so he tried to stop it. "And I really feel fine, surprisingly." He added.

Dean hesitated, paused to watch his brother's movements. He didn't seem sluggish at all so Dean pulled his jacket off. "You sure you want to do this so soon? You've been home for like, 5 minutes, man?"

Sam nodded briskly. "Yeah, come on." He motioned for Dean to start the physical therapy.

Sam wasn't ready for it, his mind knew it just as well as his body did. But he needed to save his brother, and he'd overwork himself for a lifetime to save him.

**...Supernatural...**

"Push, Sam, I know you can!" Dean growled, his voice husky from yelling so much. They'd been going at it for a good hour and Sam had persisted more than he ever had for a first-time therapy session. They were working on Sam's arms and legs first, because the loss of full circulation had made it hard for him to walk at first. Sam was pressing the balls of his feet against Dean's ready hands, forcing the muscles in his legs to work harder. He couldn't take it. He channeled all of his anger and still he couldn't push as hard as he wanted to.

It only documented failure. A failure that had made Sam even angrier. His arms were sore from pushing against Dean, and the muscles in his heart were constricting and tightening so horribly that he thought he might pass out at any minute. Sam wanted to keep going, _needed_ to keep going, but Dean had ended it.

"We're done here, Sam." He patted his calf and helped him up. "Hit the shower."

"Dean, we could've kept going." Sam pointed out.

Dean watched the way Sam was walking, how he hunched slightly, the way his arms hung limp at his sides-it bothered him. "Nah, I'm tired. You wiped me out." He smirked.

Sam shook his head and sighed. Without further demand from his brother, he locked the bathroom door and got undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders and neck and let the water beat down on his sore muscles. He couldn't handle much more of this. His body knew that he shouldn't have started the physcial therapy today. There was no way the he deal with it. He had to get stronger, though, and being strong doesn't just happen instantly. You have to work at it, and Sam was going to do just that until he was at the top of his game again.

He ran his hand over the white, raised flesh over his chest. It was an ugly scar, not as ugly as the one on his lower back, but it came close. He had started to really hate his body recently. He didn't get the kind of scars that Dean did. Not the kind of scars that you can brag about. His were the kind that were thick, raw, tender, and gross. They made him feel like some sort of freak.

At least Dean could pass for normal. Him? He stood out like a motorcycle in a candy store.

He'd get better, though. He'd push himself until the far end of the earth until he was fit. And tomorrow, it was back to research.

Sam had his lifetime to die.

Dean had less than a year.

That wasn't sitting too well with Sam.

**...To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

Summary: What if Sam had a heart problem that didn't surface until now?

Disclaimer: I'll have them home by curfew!

Author's Note: So you're all probably reading your e-mail going "Wait, what's this story about again?" Yeah, I apologize for that. It's been a long time. Too long, in my opinion. So, again, I'm extremely sorry. Things have been very hectic, and though I wish I could, I can't spend all my time writing. I've worked dilligently to get this next chapter up, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Again, I'm sorry.  
**Reviews are love.**

While We Can

Sam woke up at 8:32. It was common for him, though. Ever since the nightmares started to plague him, he had never been able to sleep in. Though, he'd be the first to admit that it was later than he usually woke up. He gingerly forced himself out of bed, took a long, hot shower, and went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Being home from the hospital wasn't all that he'd made it out to be. Truth was, the hospital had some decent painkillers, much better than Advil, and he could use them right about now. His heart muscles squeezed and tightened, causing him to lose his breath at times.

He started making pancakes-"Sam, you know these are my favorite!"-flipping them over to get them nice and brown on each side. He pulled two plates out, placed three on each one, got the syrup and butter out, and set the breakfast on the table. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and stared at the breakfast, feeling stupid because Dean wouldn't be up any time soon, and he knew it. So why did he even bother making them?

Sam sat there for a long time, merely watching the pancakes like they would solve his problems. How the Hell had he managed to get himself into this mess? Why couldn't he handle himself? Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control and this whole 'no hunting thing for Sammy's sake' was really starting to piss him off. The pancakes were cold.

Dean had managed to appear in front of him, bedhead and all, slipping onto a seat at the table and eating the pancakes like they actually tasted good, warm.

"Up early?" Dean asked nonchalantly as he ate his food. Translation: "How long ago were these made, Sam? They're cold."

Sam shrugged and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Not long. Sorry if they're cold."

Dean continued eating them and shrugged it off. "They're not too cold." Translation: "They're disgustingly cold. But I'm gonna eat them so you don't feel as bad."

Sam pushed his own plate of pancakes away, then stood up and pulled out his laptop, sitting himself down on the couch and resting it on his folded legs. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, but walking around helped the circulation. He just needed a break from all this. But Dean was dying, and the research was a Hell of a lot more important to him.

Dean popped up again. "Physio?" He questioned, waggling his eyebrows with a smirk on his face. Sam sighed hopelessly. Sometimes he thought Dean got too much enjoyment out of this. He put the laptop back down, irritated that he had done less than five minutes of research, and hopped up, sitting himself down on the floor instead.

Dean's sitting on his folded knees, watching Sam with an eye of concern. "Alright, do a sit up for me." He instructs.

Sam raises an eyebrow hesitantly. But he sucks it up and he does it, because it pleases Dean and he simply needs to get better anyway. So more physio than he should be doing is alot better than doing less of what he should. Right? Dean nods approvingly, though Sam has done his best to hide the falter in his heart and the shakiness in his jaw from clenching his teeth so tightly together.

After about an hour, Dean pats Sam's knee and tells him to hit the shower, just like the day before. Sam willingly follows, heading in to relieve the tension. Seems the shower's the only place he can do anything for himself these days.

It's not until the steaming hot water is pounding down over his back that he realizes something is wrong. Unexplained tears find their way down his cheek, winding down an unmarked path of soft flesh. He doesn't cry. Or, he hasn't cried in the longest time, and it worries him that he's doing it now. All this stress with Dean and the deal, and the past few months' events have started to take their toll on him, and he simply feels hopeless. As the water temperature gets hotter from Sam's twisting of the knob, and the room starts to fill with thick steam, he gives up. 'Maybe if I die, the deal will be off' he tells himself in a twisted tone in his mind. Letting the water beat down, he shuts his eyes and hopes. Hopes for relief, release, escape...hopes for Dean to be saved, because he's really all he has left.

**...Supernatural...**

Dean has been pounding on the door for 2.6 minutes too long. Sam should be answering him, giving him some sign. But all he hears is the water running, and feels a sense of dread in his heart. It's when the time hits the 2.8 minute mark that he's busting down the door, moisture clinging to his face from the steam in the air.

"Shit, Sam." He says, rushing over and pulling the young hunter from the bathtub. His body is so hot to the touch, and it burns Dean's arms just reaching under the spray to pull him out. He takes one of the towels and wraps it around Sam's waist hastily, pulling him up into his arms and laying him against the bed. He's so hot, and so pale-even with the flush reaching his cheeks-and it scares Dean so much.

He picks up his cell phone, calls 911 because it's all he can think of doing. If you had asked him how the conversation went just after the phone had been hung up, he wouldn't be able to tell you, because every ounce of him was focused on Sam. Always.

He puts his cold palm to Sam's forehead, cursing at how hot he is, as they wait for the ambulance to come. With all that steam, Sam could have damaged his heart again. Boy, this kid was just itching to give him as many grays as possible, huh? Worry pulsed through him. _Damn, just get here already_.

Sam drew in a very shaky breath. Too shaky for Dean's liking. "Sam? Hey, Sam?" He whispered gently, brushing back the hair on his forehead. Sam opened his eyes like a blind man seeing for the first time. He looked sad and disappointed in himself and Dean didn't even know what to say to make that any better. Had Sam done this on purpose? Why?

"Hey, the ambulance is on their way. Just take it easy." Dean says softly, continuing to brush the hair off of his forehead, even though it's long since been out of his eyes.

Sam shuts his eyes slowly, not having any energy to reply to his brother. The ambulance arrives, taking Sam on a gurney, and the scene is all too familiar to Dean. God, this was killing him. Did this have something to do with the deal? His heart was on overdrive with panic, but his brother would be okay.

The worst part was wondering whether Sam wanted to be okay or not. Whether this was intentional or not. Would he do that? Would he go that far?

Frankly, Dean didn't want to know.

**...To Be Continued...**


End file.
